Emily Dickinson Quotes
Drunkards of summer are quite as frequent as Drunkards of wine.
Emily Dickinson
Quotes to Explore
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I don't think you can climb Mount Everest with a broken leg, but I did break my leg prior to going to Mount Everest, so I was really climbing with a healing broken leg. I had the good fortune of climbing the highest mountain on each of the seven continents. That was a goal that I had.
Gary Johnson
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There weren't really any visible men in my family when I was growing up, but of course there have been men in my life, wonderful men.
Naomie Harris
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Poets that lasting marble seek Must come in Latin or in Greek.
Edmund Waller
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We are so isolated in our own little worlds, in our own little geographies, that it's pretty hard to understand where someone else is coming from. And so I think that we have to really think about what that means as a country and, frankly, whether this segregation that we have is durable over the long run.
J. D. Vance
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Never impose your language on people you wish to reach.
Abbie Hoffman
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Therefore, if the gods are immortal and eternal, what need is there of the other sex, when they themselves do not require succession, since they are always about to exist?
Lactantius
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From whence it follows, that were the publique and private interest are most closely united, there is the publique most advanced.
Thomas Hobbes
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As for 'taste' as a criterion of painting I find that it is most frequently applied to work that is essentially insensitive, brutal or vulgar beyond question. Could it now be a term with political undertones to seduce, or cover profounder motives of exploitation? I propose it be kept to the wine cellar. There it deceives no one but him who over-indulges.
Clyfford Still
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Everything comes to an end. A good bottle of wine, a summer’s day, a long-running sitcom, one’s life, and eventually our species. The question for many of us is not that everything will come to an end but when. And can we do anything vaguely useful until it does?
Jasper Fforde
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It is a sultry day; the sun has drunk
The dew that lay upon the morning grass;
There is no rustling in the lofty elm
That canopies my dwelling, and its shade
Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint
And interrupted murmur of the bee,
Settling on the sick flowers,
And then again Instantly on the wing.
William Cullen Bryant
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The real subject of every painting is light.
Claude Monet
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Drunkards of summer are quite as frequent as Drunkards of wine.
Emily Dickinson
